


Why? I'm Lovely.

by wabadabadaba



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drinking, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Hippie Harry, M/M, Smoking, Super cheesy ending, art festival, do i know how to write anything else, goth zayn, kind of, kind of?, no of course not, self discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:34:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23868352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wabadabadaba/pseuds/wabadabadaba
Summary: “But, I hate you,” Zayn said furrowing his brow.“Why? I’m lovely.”Harry didn’t say it like he was being pretentious or arrogant, he looked genuinely confused and it didn’t help Zayn’s case at all.or the one where Zayn is a little emo boy who doesn't know how to get over his struggles and Harry calls him out on it.
Relationships: Liam Payne/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Harry Styles
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63





	Why? I'm Lovely.

**Author's Note:**

> Tori sent me so many good prompts and you know which one I chose? The cheesy one from Pinterest. Honestly, I can't believe myself either. So Zayn's struggle in this was kind of inspired by my own struggle with writing and Harry being the absolute best and super supportive was inspired by my husband. This kind of got away from me and I hope you enjoy. Anyway, I hope everyone is staying safe and sane. Oh! Shout out to Tori (@Basically_wat) for helping me finish this. You're the best, Tori. 
> 
> The prompt: "I hate you." "Why? I'm lovely."

“Do you wear anything other than black?” Louis asked his best friend and roommate.

“Why would I?” Zayn questioned, looking down at his own outfit. 

“Fucking hell,” Louis muttered as he walked away from Zayn, muttering something about never growing out of his goth phase. 

Zayn didn’t mind Louis’s ramblings, of course, after being friends for sixteen years he has grown accustomed to Louis’s ramblings that often turned into temper tantrums. He just hoped Louis wouldn’t throw a temper tantrum today. Louis dragged him to some arts and crafts festival in the middle of the city, claiming Zayn would love it and it would inspire him and he could _finally_ stop moping. Which, Zayn might enjoy the festival but he wasn’t going to admit it to Louis. Instead, he told Louis he absolutely was not moping. Louis only laughed at him and dragged him to the nearest drink stand and bought them two overly priced spiked lemonades. 

“Do you remember me telling you about that really fit guy I met recently?” Louis asked as they weaved in and out of the crowds.

“Really?” Zayn rolled his eyes. “Which one?”

Louis grinned and took a sip of his lemonade. “The newest one, the one from the gym?” 

“You mean the place you accidentally walked into because you thought it was the smoothie place?” 

Louis rolled his eyes. “I was texting you that day so it’s not my fault. Anyway, do you remember?”

“Yes,” Zayn sighed. “The one with the soft brown eyes and the short hair and the huge biceps.”

“He’s going to be here today. His best friend has a booth so I told him we would go visit it.” 

“What kind of booth?” Zayn asked, tyring not to sound too intrigued.

“I forgot what Liam said, he was shirtless when he told me, so,” Louis shrugged.

Zayn didn’t bother saying anything back, he could mock Louis about the situation all day long but he didn’t want to hear Louis talking nonstop about Liam’s sweat dripping off his eyebrow. It was too much the first time around. Instead, he allowed Louis to drag him through the crowd, randomly stopping at booths Louis thought were interesting. 

As they walked around the park Zayn tried to ignore the gnawing in his chest and the voice in the back of his mind that was telling him _this should be you_. It wasn’t easy to be around so much art and so much life. It left an awful taste in Zayn’s mouth, a taste that was very much like jealousy. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, of course, he would keep the jealousy, rage and hopelessness tucked away in his chest where no one could touch it. It was easier to deal with the mess he created if no one else knew the truth. For all his friends and family knew, Zayn realized he liked history much more than art so Zayn was back in school, studying to be a history teacher. It was fine, really. 

“Ah, I think I see Liam!” Louis dropped Zayn’s hand and turned to face him suddenly, causing Zayn to run into him slightly.

“What the fuck, Lou?” Zayn frowned, licking his hand where lemonade splashed on it. 

“Be on your best behavior,” Louis threatened. “I really like Liam and I don’t want you to go after his friend.”

“Why would I do that?” Zayn asked but he knew why. 

The night’s Zayn got too drunk or too high Zayn would often find himself ranting about artists who were brave enough to sell what they created. He called them posers because art wasn’t about money. Most nights Louis would let him talk, Louis knew it was a defense mechanism, other nights when Louis was in a mood, Louis would call Zayn out and tell him he was being an arrogant, self-righteous, jealous ass and well Louis had a point. 

“I’ll be good,” Zayn mumbled. 

Louis grinned while grabbing Zayn’s wrist and pulled him towards the booth. As they got closer, Zayn could feel the familiar sense of dread and contempt filling his lungs. . Zayn stood awkwardly to the side as he watched Louis hug Liam, completely unashamed by how closed he held him or for how long. Zayn glanced around the booth, eyeing all the creative and honestly, beautiful, jewelry pieces on display. There were earrings, necklaces, rings, and bracelets. Some were made of copper, others made with silver and gold. Some pieces had beautiful stones that were larger than Zayn ever thought was fit for jewelry. Others were simple and delicate. 

Zayn looked around again and made eye contact with a tall, lanky, and somewhat shy man standing beside Liam. He was a few inches taller than Zayn with long hair that curled at the ends and tattoos that covered his chest and one of his arms. He was gorgeous and just the person Zayn pictured making all this jewelry. Zayn tore his gaze away when he started walking towards him and looked down at the rings on the table in front of him. 

“They’ve only been talking for a few weeks and yet I’m convinced they’re in love.” Zayn looked up and tried not to gawk at the man’s green eyes. “I’m Harry Styles, Liam’s best friend.”

“Hi, I’m Zayn Malik, Louis’s best friend. I’m assuming you made all this?”

“I did,” Harry nodded. “I didn’t mean to, it was an accident.”

“How do you accidentally make all this?” Zayn asked, hoping the jealousy he felt wasn’t too present in his words. 

Harry shrugged. “It started off as a hobby and well, here we are. I made too much and Liam convinced me I should sell it.”

Zayn stared at Harry, irritation flowing through his veins as he listened to Harry talk so nonchalantly about creating art and creating so much of it, in fact, that he had to sell it. This was why Zayn stopped hanging out with artists, they were all pretentious fucks living, breathing their art as if it was so fucking easy. 

“Zayn?” Louis called, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Come meet Liam.”

Zayn tried to smile as he walked over to Louis and introduced himself to Liam who was very pleasant and lovely to talk to. Liam was a fireman and didn’t understand art one bit and Zayn liked him already. Louis must have been able to tell Zayn’s discomfort when Harry joined the conversation because he snaked an arm around him and squeezed his side, reminding him to be nice and to breathe. 

The story Liam was retelling about the time he saved Harry’s cat from the roof was riveting and hilarious, it really was but Zayn was only half listening. Harry had a customer who was gushing about all the pieces and asking Harry so many questions. Zayn could hear Harry talking about how long it took to create each piece and how sometimes he stayed days on end making jewelry because the inspiration was so strong. Louis squeezed Zayn’s tighter, telling him to hang in there. 

“I have to go,” Zayn muttered when he heard the price Harry gave the woman for a set of ruby earrings. 

“Oh, are you alright?” 

“Fine,” Zayn tried to smile. “Just need to find the bathroom. I’ll text you Louis and find you.”

With that, Zayn walked away and counting to ten to calm his racing heart. Zayn couldn’t believe the price Harry told that woman for the earrings. It was shockingly low, so low that Zayn didn’t know how Harry was making any money. That was even more frustrating because Harry was selling his art for _fun_? He could honestly make enough jewelry to just give it away? It was beyond anything Zayn had ever known and it filled him with distaste and frustration. 

Zayn walked away from all the booths so he was closer to the center of the park where an open field was. He sat down under a tree and dug his pack of cigarettes out of his too-tight skinny jeans that he has had since high school. He felt bad for walking off from Liam and Louis and he really hoped he didn’t ruin any chances Louis had with Liam. He just couldn’t stand there and listen to Harry do the one thing Zayn has always wanted, and at such a low price. 

Zayn was on his fourth cigarette when Louis sat down beside him and stole the cigarette from his fingers. Zayn sighed and just lit another one, allowing Louis to keep the one he stole. 

“Did I fuck anything up?” Zayn finally asked. 

“No, you didn’t. At least I don’t think so and don’t hate me but I might have told Liam and Harry we would meet them at their friend’s bar tonight.” 

Zayn groaned and pouted at Louis. “Why?”

“Because I really like Liam. He’s a fireman Zayn, a fucking fireman. He could lift me up and toss me around and-”

“Okay,” Zayn cut him off. “I don’t need to hear anything else and please, please, do all of that at Liam’s place. We have too thin of walls for that kind of nonsense at our place.”

“Fine,” Louis grinned. “Harry isn’t that bad you know. He came back over after you left and we talked. He’s very sweet and he is really talented.”

“He is.” Zayn agreed. 

The jealousy and anger he felt for Harry and other artists weren’t big enough for him to deny anyone’s talent. 

“There were a few rings that I thought you would like even, there was a rose ring.”

“I’m not buying his jewelry, Louis.”

“I know,” Louis sighed. “But you should give him a chance. He’s not so bad.”

Zayn wanted to fight back, wanted to ask Louis exactly how he knew Harry wasn’t so bad. From what Zayn saw, he was just another artist who didn’t realize how good they had it. Zayn didn’t say any of that. He stood up and helped Louis stand up and demanded they look for an ice cream stand before walking around some more. 

Much later in the evening after Zayn got roped into helping Harry put away his jewelry and his stand by Louis who glared at him, they were on their way to their friend’s bar. Since Liam drove a truck, most of Harry’s things were put in the back of the bed and the backseat meaning only Louis could fit. Zayn shot Louis a look that read _you owe me for this you fucker_ before following Harry to his tiny, compact Honda. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry apologized when they got to the car. “It’s a little messy.”

It wasn’t that messy but Zayn didn’t say anything, he just muttered it’s okay and stayed silent as Harry fiddled with his phone until the sounds of Tom Petty filled the car and _of course_ Harry Styles who makes jewelry listens to _Tom fucking Petty_.

“So did you enjoy yourself today?” Harry asked as Honey Bee ended.

“Yeah,” Zayn lied. “It was nice.”

“I’m excited about tomorrow. I’m going again but this time I won’t have my booth set up so I’ll actually be able to enjoy it.” Zayn brought his hand to his lips and did his best to cover his scowl at the statement. “Are you going tomorrow too?” Harry asked him.

“No, I have to study.”

“Oh, what are you studying?” 

“History, I’m going to be a history teacher,” Zayn explained. 

“Hm,” Harry mused, nodding along. 

Zayn watched Harry and although Harry didn’t say anything more, it seemed like he wanted to and Zayn had to know. “You look like you want to say something else.”

“It’s nothing,” Harry shook his head before sighing. “Okay it’s just surprising is all, that you want to be a history teacher.”

“You hardly know me,” it was colder than Zayn intended and he thought about apologizing but Harry continued.

“Oh, I know. I didn’t mean it like that. You just seem like the artistic type, you know? There is something about you.”

“Well, I’m not,” Zayn snapped, wincing after he said it. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped.”

“I shouldn’t have judged a book by its cover,” Harry shrugged, turning up the radio as Free Fallin started. 

Zayn was positive Harry hated him and he worried how Louis was going to react when he found out Zayn was a dick to his potential boyfriend’s best friend. Zayn didn’t feel like dying by way of Loui’s tiny hands so when Free Fallin faded out, Zayn spoke up again.

“So, Louis said your friend owns the bar?”

“Yeah, his name is Niall. He is wild, he is friends with everyone and I couldn’t imagine him with a more perfect job. He’s really nice, you’ll like him and that’s not me assuming,” Harry smirked. “Everyone likes Niall.” 

“I’m sorry about before, I shouldn’t have snapped.”

Harry shrugged, his hair falling in front of his face a little bit. “It’s alright, we’ve all got demons and things we don’t want to talk about, right?” Harry grinned. 

Harry was right, not only about everyone having demons but Zayn liking Niall because he really liked Niall. Despite not knowing Zayn or Louis, he gave them free drinks and snuck away from doing owner business to have a round with everyone. It was much easier to talk to Niall than it was to talk to Harry. In Zayn’s drunken mind, he knew it was because Harry could see right through him and it scared him. 

+

As the weeks dragged on and Louis started hanging out with Liam more and more, Zayn did everything he could to not see Harry again. Harry wasn’t as terrible as Zayn initially judged him to be. Harry was kind, funny, wise, and often times he was very silly. The night they met when Harry drunkenly declared he was a hippie, Zayn thought he was joking but the few times Louis forced Zayn along with him and he spent time with Harry, he realized it was true. Harry gardened and not just flowers but vegetables too. He used all-natural products and refused to use single-serving plastic wear. Harry does yoga in the park and volunteers at the local YMCA and he makes jewelry. A lot of jewelry. 

Which was why Zayn still couldn’t stand to be around him. Even if he was beautiful and generous, he still created so effortlessly and Zayn hated him for it. So Zayn kept making excuses as to why he couldn’t go to lads night at Niall’s bar or Liam’s apartment. On a particularly rough night of Louis begging and Zayn hating himself, Zayn slipped up and admitted that it was too painful to be around someone who could make art without a care in the world. Louis dropped it and let Zayn be for a few weeks until Louis came waltzing in his room and started to beg again.

“Please Zayn,” Louis begged. “I can’t keep making excuses for you. Everyone is asking me when you’re going to show up. Liam is afraid you don’t like him,” Louis pouted.

“I love Liam,” Zayn told him. “He’s perfect for you, Lou. He’s wonderful but I just-”

“I know it’s hard to be around Harry and I get it, for the most part. But you haven’t come out in weeks and today is going to be so fun. Niall finally has a Saturday off and we’re going to play stupid yard games and Liam is going to cook his delicious steaks, please Zayn.”

Zayn wanted to say no, he wanted to say he had to work or study or something but Louis was looking at him so pleadingly and so sadly that Zayn gave in. Louis squealed and jumped into Zayn’s arms hugging him tightly and telling him he won’t regret it.

“Oh and don’t wear anything too goth!” Louis called out to him as he left his room. “We are going to be outside.”

Zayn dressed in all black like he always does and ignored Louis’s protests and questions on why he couldn’t wear something with a little color every once in a while. 

“How else would people know I’m a failed artist, Lou?” Zayn retorted as they got in Louis’s car. “You look like you’re going to have an aneurysm, it was a joke. You can laugh.”

“Oh god, I thought you were serious,” Louis giggled. “That was a good one. It’s not every day you make fun of yourself Z, does this mean you’re actually getting better?”

Zayn scoffed. “Don’t count on it.”

“By the way,” Louis grinned. “This little get together is at Harry’s.”

Before he could think about it, Zayn punched Louis’s arm. “What the fuck?” Zayn asked. “Why would you tell me this now?”

“So you couldn’t run off, of course.”

Zayn decided he wasn’t too old to give Louis the silent treatment. He knew Louis had a point, he absolutely would not have caved if Louis had told him it was Harry’s. There was nothing he could do about it now and he tried to ignore the irate feeling in his chest. He was going to spend the whole day at Harry’s he had to stay relatively calm. 

Harry’s house was exactly what Zayn pictured. It was small with a flower garden in the front yard, plants were scattered around his tiny house and there were books and empty mason jars everywhere. The kitchen was filled with cookbooks and fresh fruit and vegetables. In the backyard, there was a decent-sized vegetable garden, a compost station, a small flower garden, and a few hammocks. It was what Zan pictured a hippie’s house to look like, it was so perfectly Harry that Zayn felt sick.

“Is that a greenhouse?” Zayn asked Louis as they walked further into the backyard.

“No. That’s his art studio.” 

Zayn stopped walking and felt like a thousand bricks hit him in the chest. An art studio, Harry’s very own art studio. 

“Z,” Louis sighed. “Come on, let’s go talk to Liam. He’ll distract you.” 

Zayn let Louis pull him away and he hoped whatever story Liam was going to share from work was louder than the shed at the back of the property. When Niall showed up a few minutes later with drinks, Zayn felt like he couldn’t drink fast enough. Harry was the perfect host; he provided food and wine, he had some playlist that was mostly Fleetwood Mac playing, he set up croquet all by himself when Niall and Louis insisted they wanted to play. It was killing Zayn because all he wanted was to hate Harry in peace but he was making it very difficult. 

Later in the evening, after the sun went down, Liam started a fire in the small firepit and cuddled up with Louis. Niall brought out one of Harry’s guitars because of course Harry was also musically inclined. Harry was inside doing the dishes and Zayn was just drunk and high enough that he wandered to the shed and walked inside. It was very neat with shelves lining the walls and fairy lights strung across the room. There were three different work stations with different gear and extra lamps. It was everything a homemade jeweler could want in a studio. Zayn carefully walked around and stopped to admire a ring on one of the tables. It was a rose with dark silver and it looked quite gothic looking. 

“So you found your ring.”

Zayn jumped, his head snapping up and he looked at Harry. “I’m sorry, I just got curious. Wait, did you say my ring?”

“Yeah,” Harry shrugged. “Louis told me it was something you would like and it did seem to fit you. It’s quite darker than I generally make so I was going to resize it for you.”

“But, I hate you,” Zayn said furrowing his brow. 

“Why? I’m lovely.”

Harry didn’t say it like he was being pretentious or arrogant, he looked genuinely confused and it didn’t help Zayn’s case at all. 

“I really don’t get it, you know. I mean I know I can’t please everyone or make you my friend but I enjoy hanging out with you. The few times you show up, I have a good time. From what Louis tells me I know we could get along. So why? Why do you hate me?” 

_Because you’re everything I want to be, you’re accomplishing my dream_. “I, I,” Zayn hesitates. “I can’t tell you.”

“I don’t think you hate me. I think you’re struggling with something and I remind you of it. I wish that wasn’t the case. I think you’re lovely, Zayn, really really lovely. And I’m sorry to have to do this but will you rejoin the others? I don’t generally let people in my studio.” 

Instead of thinking about his normal insults Zayn only thinks about how bad he feels for encroaching on Harry’s space. When Zayn was still painting, he hated it when people were in his space. 

“Right, I’m sorry for intruding.” 

Zayn doesn’t rejoin his friends though, he makes an excuse about not feeling well and orders an Uber to take him home. He damns Harry for being able to read him so easily and blames the alcohol and weed on his tears as he sits alone in his bedroom and thinks about what it would be like to paint again.

+

Later in the week, when Louis was about to leave for a weekend at Liam’s place, Louis left a small box with Zayn’s name on it on the kitchen counter. Zayn didn’t have to open it to know what it was. He took the box from the counter and put it on the desk in his room and promptly ignored it. 

Weeks went by and the box stayed on his desk and Louis stopped inviting Zayn to hang out with everyone. He didn’t tell Louis what happened so he assumed Harry told them and he wondered what exactly he said. It didn’t matter anyway because Zayn told Harry he hated him, even though it wasn’t true. Zayn didn’t know if it would be possible to see Harry again, not because of what he admitted but because Harry could see right through the charade. 

It was a rainy day, storms were forecasted for the afternoon and Zayn yet again had the afternoon free since Louis was staying with Liam. Zayn had felt weird the evening before and almost asked Louis to stay behind but Louis was excited and Zayn couldn’t admit what he was feeling. He was scared too because it could be nothing, it could be fleeting and the second Zayn spoke the words into existence, it could disappear. 

Dressed in very comfortable clothes that Zayn didn’t care if they got wet or not, Zayn drove himself into town and parked in front of the art store. Before he could talk himself out of it, he went inside and counted to ten to calm his breathing. 

“You’re just looking around,” Zayn told himself. “There is no pressure.”

Zayn walked through the aisles of the art store and tried not to get too ahead of himself. He reminded himself that he was just looking and it was a huge step to even be in the art store in the first place. Zayn walked over to the sketchbooks and toyed with the strings of his sweatshirt as he looked at all of them. Maybe a fresh start was what he needed. 

“Excuse me.”

“Oh, sorry,” Zayn looked to his right as he stepped forward to let the person pass, and of course it was Harry. “Oh, hi Harry.”

Harry visibly winced and smiled at Zayn. “Hey, Zayn. I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

“I didn’t know I was going to be here either,” Zayn shrugged. “It looks like you are buying the entire jewelry section,” Zayn tried to tease. 

Harry looked down at the pile of things in his arms. “Yeah, rainy days always give me the most inspiration. I should go but Zayn, the black one with the wrap-around straps, that suits you.”

Zayn looked down at the sketchbook Harry was talking about. When he went to look at Harry again, he was already gone. Zayn sighed and before he could truly think about it, he picked up the black sketchbook with the wrap-around straps and walked to the front counter. As Harry was leaving, he gave Zayn a knowing smile before disappearing into the rain.

When Zayn got home he cleared off his desk, except for the box, and sat down. Carefully, he opened the box and pulled out the rose ring that Harry gave him. He slipped it on his forefinger before grabbing his favorite pencil and opening the new sketchbook.

+

Zayn wasn’t going to admit it to anyone but he has been trying to draw for the past few weeks. Nothing has come of it yet, mostly he has been doodling. Still, there is a feeling Zayn has. It is a dull ache in his chest and the back of his mind telling him to create, it doesn't matter what it is, just draw. 

It was what forced Zayn out of the house so much. Other than working and school, he was trying to find different places that gave him inspiration. There was a coffee shop on the edge of town Zayn still hadn’t tried yet so after class on a Friday afternoon, Zayn drove himself there. He nearly walked out when he saw Harry sitting in the corner working on some jewelry. He couldn't back out now, the ache was so strong and he didn’t want to lose it. 

Zayn ordered himself a black coffee and asked the barista to remake whatever Harry ordered and paid for both. Once he received his items he walked over to Harry. 

"Is anyone sitting here?" Zayn asked.

Harry looked up and smiled at Zayn. "No, not at all."

Zayn sat down and put Harry's tea on his table. "I got you another one."

"Why?" Harry asked, a small smile playing at his lips. 

"Because you're lovely," Zayn shrugged.

"Thank you."

Harry's eyes flickered to the ring on Zayn's fingers but he didn't say anything. He silently got back to work on his jewelry. Zayn took out his sketchbook and favorite pencil and opened a brand new page. He mostly stared off into space and thought what he could be drawing instead of actually drawing but it was another baby step and he was trying to be gentle with himself. All too soon it felt like Harry was packing up beside him and thanking Zayn again for the tea. 

“Wait,” Zayn reached out and caught Harry’s wrist in his own. “I don’t hate you, Harry.”

Harry smiled softly. “I know, Zayn. Don’t stress yourself out, it’ll come.”

Harry slipped his wrist from Zayn’s hold and walked out of the coffee shop, leaving Zayn feeling a little more lost than he entered. Zayn was determined though, today was the day he was going to draw something. For the first time in years, it wasn’t a lie. Zayn made one simple line on his clean paper and lost himself in his art.

+

“You seem different,” Louis mused over his morning tea with Zayn. “Did you get laid?”

Zayn laughed and shook his head. “No, I didn’t get laid.”

“You’re wearing Harry’s ring,” Louis set his cup down and stared at Zayn. “You’re wearing the ring. Does this mean you don’t hate him anymore?”

“I never hated him.”

“That’s not what he told us.”

“I knew he told you,” Zayn rolled his eyes. “Did he tell you he called me out on my bullshit? He said he thought he reminded me of something I’m struggling with,” Louis looked shocked but Zayn continued. “I ran into him at the art store,” this time Louis choked on his biscuit. “And we ran into each other at the coffee shop over on Lowell Street. He was working on his jewelry and I was trying to draw.”

“And did you?” Louis asked. “I mean, did you draw?” 

Zayn smiled and nodded. “I did.”

Louis leapt up from his seat and wrapped his arms around Zayn, hugging him tightly. “Fuck, I’m so proud of you.”

Zayn nuzzled his face into Louis’s shoulder and hugged his best friend and let himself cry. This has been five years in the making and neither of them could contain their emotions. 

“I’m not trying to make it a bigger deal than it is,” Louis pulled away, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Whatever you do Zayn, I’m so proud of you. Even if you want to stop tomorrow.”

“That’s the thing, Louis,” Zayn cried. “I don’t want to stop tomorrow.”

Louis started crying again and brought Zayn in for another hug. “I’m so proud of you, I love you so much.”

“I love you too Lou.”

“Does this mean you’re going to stop being a little goth kid?” Louis asked, pulling away again. 

“No,” Zayn laughed. “I’ll never grow out of it.” 

“Damn,” Louis laughed. “Come on, let’s finish our tea and pretend like we didn’t just cry in the middle of our kitchen. I need you to tell me everything while I text Liam that you don’t actually hate Harry.” 

+

It was another rainy day and this time, Liam was over at their apartment so Zayn decided to give them some space after dinner. He smoked a joint, put on his favorite playlist and pulled out his sketchbook. It’s been a few months and he has been drawing pretty regularly. The ache he felt before drawing was starting to come back and he knew what it meant. It meant he was ready to try and paint again. He purchased a small canvas and a basic pack of acrylic paint to start out with. He took another hit from his joint before taking a deep breath and painting whatever the hell he wanted. 

Hours later, there was a mess on the canvas. The colors clashed, the scene didn’t make sense and the mistakes were obvious. Zayn loved it though, it was like he was finally free and he never felt better. He quickly got changed into random clothes he found on his floor and grabbed the canvas from his desk. Liam and Louis were in the middle of a movie when he left his room and Louis sat up, asking if Zayn was alright. 

“I’m fine, I’m so good, Louis. Liam, do you know if Harry is home?” 

“Yeah, he should be. Why?” 

“I have something to give him. I’ll be back later.”

Zayn rushed out of his apartment and down to his car, he was careful to protect the canvas from the rain as he ran across the parking lot. During the drive to Harry’s house, he couldn’t stop himself from crying from the overwhelming sense of accomplishment he felt. It was all too much and he felt like if he didn’t get what he was feeling off his chest, he was going to burst. Once he was parking in Harry’s driveway, he ran up to the door and knocked repeatedly. Harry opened the door, a floral headband was pushing his hair back, he was wearing an oversized baby blue sweater with a duck on it and sweatpants. He looked lovely and Zayn wanted to kiss him. 

“Zayn come in, you’ll get soaked. Are you okay?”

Zayn wiped his nose with his sleeve and nodded. “Here.”

Harry took the canvas from him and smiled, his green eyes looking over every inch. “It’s lovely, Zayn.”

“It’s not,” Zayn laughed. “It’s shit, it looks so terrible but I wanted you to have it.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re everything I hated about artists. You are able to create so freely. I mean you said it yourself the first day we met that you had to sell your work because you had too much of it. I mean too much art,” Zayn laughed. “I couldn’t even fathom that Harry. I have been struggling for a little over five years to draw, to paint to do anything. I couldn’t look at a pencil without getting irritated, I got rid of all my supplies because it was just a reminder of the disappointment I felt like I was. I let someone take this gift, this passion of mine. I let them have it and destroy it and I was left with nothing,” Zayn cried. “I met you and you reminded me of my old self. Someone who would make stuff just because. Someone who didn’t care about the money, which you should care, Harry. You’re giving your stuff away for free and you need to have some self-respect and charge people what you deserve.”

“Zayn,” Harry smiled. “This isn’t about me.”

“Right, right. But it kind of is because I let my self-hatred and self-pity get in the way of how I really felt about you which is totally unfair. Especially because you’re so fucking hot and you’re so lovely even if your house smells like a crazy mixture of lemon and dirt.”

“I can’t even be offended by that,” Harry laughed. “It’s the scent of my candle. It’s actually Lemon and Wood but that’s beside the point. I told you I was lovely.”

“I know,” Zayn sighed. “I know. I was a prick and I’m sorry. You gave me this beautiful ring that you created and I ignored it for the longest time but the day in the art store, that’s the day I put it on and I don’t know if this ring is magic but it helped me draw. I just,” Zayn ran a hand through his damp hair. “I know that painting is shit and I really can do better but I want you to have it because, without you, I don’t think I would have painted it in the first place. I want to get to know you better, Harry. I want to sit in coffee shops with you and draw while you make earrings. I want to buy your tea and I want to kiss you. Fuck I really want to kiss you.”

Harry grinned and carefully set the painting on the couch beside him. “So kiss me then.”

Zayn surged forward and wrapped his arms around Harry and kissed him, it was wet and a little uncomfortable from their position but it was still the second-best feeling in the world; the first being the fact that Zayn could paint again. Harry pulled away first and put his hand on Zayn’s cheek. 

“The ring isn’t magic, Zayn. You had it in you all along. The reason I could call you out so easily is because I was there once too. It took me six years to get back to making jewelry. I knew all you needed was time and someone to call you out on your bullshit and I will always do that. You’re going to keep painting and it won’t be because of me. It’ll be because you finally see the beauty inside yourself.”


End file.
